The black demon
by thebladeofchaos
Summary: War Brings out the heroes in nations, from the Leaders, all the way to the common footsoldier...but none came from those who fought with devotion to the gold. 1337: La Guerre De La Cent Ans, where the strong, the determined, the famed and the brave seek their fortunes and fame amid chaos. Would the chaos of the war of the century bring about a change in the view on Mercenaries?
1. Prologue

I asked for this section to be put up, so first I would like to thank the guys at fan fiction for putting this section up

First I would like to thank the guys at fan fiction for putting this section up.

The intro is basically before mercenaries got involved in the hundred years war, so this is before the events of the game.

Have fun.

Prologue

Dark Days of War

In a tavern in the north of France, untouched by the war all around it, the Barkeep, in his red and blue tunic, cleans his goblets and chalices, waiting for the call to come. The call for mercenaries to join the war, he looked round, seeing regulars drinking a bit of ale. He looked at the side of his bar, looking at the French merchant, wearing fine noble's clothes, drinking from a fine chalice.

"Tell me" the Barkeep starts, walking over to the Merchant. "How long do you think it will be under the mercenaries are needed?"

"I wouldn't think long" the merchant replied, looking round. "I think the King of England is starting to get impatient"

The barkeep looked further round the bar, seeing a gent in armour walk in, his armour coloured green, meaning he was neutral in the war. He walked over to the bar, holding a message of some kind.

"Message from the war" the person tells the pair, passing the Barkeep the message. He reads it, smiling as he finishes it.

"And so it has begun" he speaks, passing the message to the merchant.

"Both sides are looking for mercenaries, eh?" he speaks, putting the message to one side. "England sails to Normandy, and Aquitaine is under control"

"The time is ripe" the Barkeep continues, opening the taps on a cask and filling two wooden goblets with ale. He closed the tap and passed one to his friend. "The mercenaries shall soon flock here, looking for coin to earn and glory to receive"

The two friends tapped goblets and having a quick drink. The messenger left the tavern, heading towards his home. He passed three people walking in, looking round the tavern as they came in, and walking over to the bar. The youngest wore brown leather clothes with un-neat brown hair; he had a bow in his hand and a quiver on his back. The next youngest had jet black, untidy hair, wearing green leather armour along with leg plates; he had a sword and a shield on his back. The oldest of the three wore steel armour all over his body, with cloth in places to show his side, holding a spear and a shield. The Barkeep walked over to the three, giving them a goblet of ale.

"Blessed be friends" he said to them, walking around to clean up more goblets, occasionally wiping the tables. "What would bring ye to this humble tavern?"

"I for one be a mercenary, I don't know about the other two" the middle one spoke, he had an Irish accent and looked around, drinking his ale. "My name is Magnus by the by"

"That appears to be the same for us" the biggest spoke, looking round as well, pushing his drink forward. "I'm Marc, and this is my younger brother, Georges"

"Brother, all we need is a good job to show our worth" Georges spoke. The Barkeep walked over to a board, pulling down a notice and bringing it over to the three mercenaries.

"This is all I have at the moment" he told them, putting the contract in front of them. "The first encounter at Normandy, the English landings have gotten the French forces mobilized" he pointed to the staging area, just south of Carentan on the map. "The French seek to push the English back, and the English seek a strong foothold to bring in more troops" he walked around the bar, standing behind the men. "The reward is 4490 gold coins from your side, and both sides be recruiting"

Magnus whistled at this, thinking of all the things he could do with that money. Marc and Georges looked at each other, smiling.

"Alright, I guess we'll take it for the English" Georges told the Barkeep, leaving with Mark right behind him. Magnus stayed for a bit longer, looking at the Barkeep.

"So how long do ye think it'll be before we get some new blood on the battlefield?" he asked, standing up, the Barkeep scratched his chin, thinking of an answer.

"I wouldn't say too long, in fact they might be walking through the door right now" he answered, laughing afterwards. Magnus left after this, thinking of the battle ahead.

The Barkeep put the contract on the corner of the bar, nailing it down with a dagger. He went back to his old duties, cleaning up the empty tables and setting out the chairs, he felt a draft as the door opened, looking over and seeing a young man walk in. he had red spiky hair and simple leather clothes, no weapons on him at all. His green eyes showed a young spirit.

"Ah, a new warrior I see" he spoke, returning to the bar. "Come hither to, I would like to get a better look at you." The young man walked over to the bar; still standing up even though seats were free. "Please, may I know your name?"

The young man looked around, thinking of how great this place looked, the map on the wall above the fireplace made it superb for mercenaries. Gossip could be heard no matter where you were inside. The chess game where the pieces had been untouched and the merchant were a rush to his senses, taking in all this at once. He looked back at the bar, looking the Barkeep in the eye.

"My name…" he started, his voice sounding quite innocent. He sat on a stool, grabbing the ale left over from before "…Is Jorzan"

"Hmm, that is an unusual name" the Barkeep replied, crossing his arms and looking at the young man. "How aged are ye?"

"I'm 20 in 5 moons" Jorzan replied, taking a quick swig. "And I would like to joins the ranks of the mercenaries"

"Well, rule number one, you must sell your name" the Barkeep replied, refilling the merchant's goblet. "Nought shall befall you if you don't sell your name"

"Yeah, yeah, I know the mercenary's code" Jorzan replied, making sure to stress the word 'know'.

"Well, if that be the case, the first contract is their on the table" he pulled a sword out from under the bar, passing it over to the new mercenary. "There's your base lard, now get going"

The new mercenary grabbed the sword, pulling it out of its sheath and seeing the blade was rusted but still sharp. He put the blade back, running out of the Tavern towards the staging area.

"I'll be back after the job!" he shouted, excited about his first contract. The Barkeep held his head in his hands, thinking about the innocence that the boy held.

"He'll be back alive I guess" he spoke. "And he will be one to look out for"

Right… that's this intro done. Hope you liked it, and did anyone else ask for this section to be put up, because I sure as hell did and can't wait to see what everyone puts in. now have fun writing/ reading.


	2. First contract

Before I start

_Italics _show thoughts

* * *

Chapter 1: First contract.

Arriving in Normandy at midday, Jorzan reported to the English city of Carentan, looking round he saw soldiers all relaxing. As each one looked at him, they spat on the floor. Mercenaries aren't respected…in fact they were hated due to their varying loyalties for cash.

He walked to the centre of the city, seeing a young soldier talking to three others. The other three were mercenaries by the looks of them. He walked up to the group, listening to the soldier.

"We are to take the east side of the bay" the soldier explained, not taking any notice of Jorzan. "Anything you get along the way is yours to keep"

"Seems easy enough" Magus told the soldier, he then turned to the new mercenary, looking at him. "And who might ye be?"

"My name is Jorzan" he replied, holding the base lard in his hand. "I hope to prove my worth on the battlefield"

"Well, I'm Magnus, this is Georges and Marc. We are also mercenaries"

"I hope you don't get yourself killed out there" Marc commented, looking at him. "Take a sword squad and follow us, we'll keep you safe"

"If you don't mind, sir, I'm going to head along the coast" Jorzan told them, walking over to the map, pointing at where they were. "The majority of bases along the bay are weak and easy to take, if you move your squads along the mainland, we can split them up and bring in a large amount of troops against our target" he moved his finger around as he explained this, then poking the X on the map.

The others understood, and liked, his plan, less work for them for the same reward. They all nodded, agreeing to the plan and moved to get ready. The young warrior stood for a bit, wondering what to do from here.

_I wonder what the soldiers will be like _he thought to himself. He ran towards the gates, getting excited about the coming battle.

When he got to the gate, he saw loads of soldiers. Mostly footmen, but some were archers and a few sword horsemen. He counted 30 footmen, 20 archers and 10 horsemen They all wore light leather armour, coloured red so they could tell which side they were on. Jorzan joined them, walking over to the sword unit.

"Excuse me soldiers" he said to them, they all looked at him. "I'm leading you guys for now, do you mind?"

As he finished that sentence, they all spat on the ground. They knew he was a mercenary.

"Why should we work with a filthy sell-sword?" one of them asked, he looked like the leader, but he wore the same things as the rest of the squad. The others nodded as he asked this, one spitting on the ground again.

"I'm under contract from King Henry to establish a foothold in this region" he replied, walking straight over to the leader. "I may be a mercenary, but I'm here to do my job, just like you lot" he held the base lard tightly in his hand, resisting the urge to draw it and slash this soldiers throat. "Now, if you don't mind, we should get moving, the French aren't going to wait for us to move out"

The soldiers nodded as he said this, the archers and horsemen all nodding as well. Jorzan stood next to the leader, drawing his sword and strapping the sheath to his belt.

"Right, let's get going" he told the soldiers, walking out of the gates, the soldiers alongside. The other two regiments followed, mostly as part of their orders to attack the other bases.

The walk through the French countryside was very quiet…too quiet. The occasional deer or rabbit was seen running by, but they didn't hang around. Jorzan kept an eye in the distance, seeing some French troops heading towards them, almost an exact copy of what he was leading, except blue instead of red.

"Enemies!" he shouted, pointing out the soldiers. The rest of the group drew their weapons, getting ready for combat. "Archers, fire at will. Cavalry, charge them!"

As Jorzan finished saying that, a full volley of arrows pierced the sky, heading over his head and hitting the enemy. Half of the cavalry unit was felled by the arrows, as were a quarter of the infantry and archers. The enemy cavalry had started to mobilise, heading towards the mercenary, however, the allied cavalry countered, charging the enemy.

The two units met with a force that would leave neither side unscathed. Whilst the whole of the French cavalry fell, most of the English horsemen died, with the enemy archers finishing the job. Jorzan led his unit into the melee with the archer groups firing at each other. Steel met steel in a storm of blades and arrows as the two units collided. The cavalry would occasionally do a sweep of the enemy, sometimes hitting one of their allies.

Jorzan himself moved his blade to block one of the enemy's blades. He span round, bringing the blade to bear on his opponent, who blocked and forced a deadlock.

"English dog, you shall fall to francais acierer!" the Frenchman shouted, forcing the blade back and getting another slash ready.

"I will not!" the mercenary replied, moving the blade to block. "Besides, I'm not English, I'm a mercenary!"

He kicked the soldier in the chest, which wasn't what an honourable soldier would have done. The poor guy recoiled in pain, relieving his strength from the blade. The mercenary followed it up with a swift stab to the chest. Blood spilled onto the warrior from the soldier. The blade protruding from his back, coloured crimson with the guy's blood.

He withdrew the blade, letting the guy fall to the ground. He grabbed the sword as he fell, holding it in his off hand. It was basically a better version of his…well, a basic long sword; his base lard was old and rusted. He swapped the blades in the combat, using the base lard as a defence.

The fight continued with both sides taking losses. Crimson blood stained the earth beneath them. The bodies of the dead lay with eyes wide open. The battle was steadily going in the mercenary's favour, with the French suffering more casualties then Jorzan's allies.

The young warrior used both of his swords in the combat, blocking the soldiers' attacks, following up with his new sword, mainly swiping at them along there chest, but he did, once, stab one in the head. His unit did brilliantly, fighting like a lion.

When the battle was done, the enemy was on the ground, with either a slash in them or an arrow sticking out of them. Some had died in very bloody ways, one was missing an arm, another, a leg and a third his head. Jorzan looked at his troops, checking on the numbers left. 2 horsemen, 10 archers and 15 footmen, just under half what he had before.

"We have to keep moving" he told the troops, putting the base lard away. "If we stay here, then chances are we'll get attacked again" The soldier who moaned before walked over to him, a large mark in his armour where a sword had almost hit him.

"Give us a moment for pity's sake" he moaned, looking at the soldiers. "We've lost most of our unit; some of the rest are injured. We can't move out again"

"We have a choice now. Stay here and die, or march on to glory" he told the swords man. _I'm falling into this mercenary role easily _"If we march, we win this battle in England's name, if we stay here or fall back, our allies fall" he swung his arm, hoping to prove some kind of point. "What's better? Losing a few men, or losing a lot more soldiers in avoidable circumstances?"

This strung a cord with the soldiers. If they could, they would attempt to save their allies…that was every soldier's duty. They all looked at the mercenary, thinking that he would give them their next order. Jorzan looked at them. _Ok, maybe I'm acting too much like a leader._

"Ok, if we keep moving we should hit the target by around sunset" he told the soldiers, grabbing a sheath off one of the dead Frenchmen. "We'll hit some resistance but nothing too strong for us, and reinforcements should be coming along soon"

"So let's get moving then" the commander said, running along the road with the soldiers close behind. He was very willing to follow a mercenary at the moment; Jorzan wondered how long that would last after the battle.

_I guess their happy for now _he thought to himself, running after the soldiers. He hoped to gain some sort of reward for this.

* * *

So, there's the first battle. Jorzan has a proper weapon now.

And when it gets round to the other units, I'm going to have him bringing 3 weapons to the battle. One for foot, one for archery and one for horseback…either that or have it so a soldier is carrying a weapon for him. (Not likely for that one though)

And I will, eventually, get the town names in…I'm sorry.


	3. Contract completed

Chapter 2:

Sneaking and victory

The soldiers of England, battered, exhausted and covered in blood, followed Jorzan through the French countryside. The mercenary thought about how best to take on the target.

"Hey, sell sword" he heard the leader of the swords start, running up to him.

"What is it?" he asked, looking at the soldier.

"What's the plan to capture the fortress?"

"Fortress?"

The soldier got out a map, unrolling it and showing it to the warrior. He pointed out the target, seeing that the legend was a fort. Great, this ought to be fun. The soldier re-rolled the map back up, putting it into a pouch.

"I guess the simple plans are the best" Jorzan replied, looking at the soldier. "I'll distract them so that they open the gate. The archers should fire at the guards on the walls in order to keep the advance hidden" he pointed into the distance, making out he saw the fort. "The footmen and the cavalry charge in, cutting down whoever gets in the way, and the rest is simple"

"Clever and simple" the soldier replied, scratching his chin. "What's your name by the way?"

"It's Jorzan" The mercenary told him, looking at the soldier. "What about you?"

"It's Micael" the soldier looked at sky, seeing a few stars coming out. "Micael of Yorkshire, son of Matthew, husband to Matilda and father of two boys"

"That's one hell of a long intro"

"Hey, avoid that kind of language!"

Being a mercenary, Jorzan had forgotten the normal etiquette, such as avoiding unsaintly words.

"Sorry" he told the soldier.

"I'll let you off this time" Micael replied, looking happy. "Well, what about you?"

"It's complicated"

"I told you mine, you tell me yours"

"I'd rather not"

He was sure that would have carried on for a while, if not for the fact that the fortress came into sight. It looked damaged and old, most likely involved in a siege at some point. The French flag flew high above it.

"Alright, Archers, take out the sentries as quietly as possible" the mercenary ordered the soldiers, the archers moving around as silently as they could. "Cavalry and footmen, get ready to charge once I open the gate"

"What will you do, Sell sword?" someone asked him, he expected this question, turning away and walking towards the fort.

"I'm going to give you guys an opening" he replied, turning round and looking at the troops. "Any news on Magnus, Georges and Marc?"

"Nothing"

"Very well" the mercenary turned back, continuing to go to the fort. "Wait for my signal"

The mercenary got his base lard out, cutting his skin and cloths to make it look like he was injured. He ruffled his hair, going over what French he knew in his head (when your going to be fighting in the region, you want to know at least two languages so you can fight for two sides) . He then clutched his chest, moving to the gate, seeing sentries dying silently.

"Aide…Si v'ous plait!" he shouted (Translated to 'help…please') he 'collapsed' in front of the door, keeping his eyes closed. A soldier opened the door, seeing the mercenary on the ground

"Soldat, causatif, quelqu'un, Finir dan Toubib et aide je obtenteur ille en le forteresse!" the soldier shout ('Soldiers, Causality, someone, fetch a medic and help me get him inside the fortress')

"Quelle lui qui a fait cela a la porte il?" another soldier asked ('what is he doing out there?')

"Plausible part en le forces nous expédier" ('possibly part of the force we dispatched')

"Puits lasser Nous rentrer ille en" ('well, let's get him in')

The mercenary felt two hands grab him, dragging along the ground into the fortress. He hoped that the soldiers were ready and in position…

Meanwhile, to the west of this incident, Magnus, Marc and Georges were walking along the countryside. Their soldiers behind them, Georges had his archers behind him, his bow in hand. Marc had his heavily armoured spearmen walking with him, most of them had a scratch or two on them from battle. Magnus appeared to have taken the most damage, half of his sword battalion had injuries of some kind and the other half was exhausted.

"I wonder how that young mercenary be doing" Magnus said to himself, looking at the sky.

"He'll most likely be attack the enemy base right now, knowing what mistakes new recruits can make" Marc told him, looking into the distance.

"Well, he better not get in our way" Georges joked, putting an arrow onto his bow string. "Besides, who needs him?"

"I hate to see new blood spilled when it can be avoided" Magnus replied, looking back down onto the ground and seeing the fortress in the distance. He noticed movement in the woods nearby, seeing English soldiers. "But I suppose a few surprises might be in store"

They kept on walking, hoping to get in on some action for their fair share of the fame.

Back in the French fortress…

"Qui trouver" a French soldier asked (What happened?) the now 'conscious' Jorzan, he was lying in a bed, quite comfortably.

"Maudire Anglais attaquer, Je seulement juste échapper" (Damn English attacked, I only just escaped)

"Tu par heureux mercenaire" (You are a lucky mercenary)

"Je Savoir, Mais tu pas" (I know, but your not)

The mercenary got up off the bed, running over to the soldier and slashing at him with the base lard. The poor guy fell to the floor with a cut in his stomach. _Tu easy, I mean too easy_ Jorzan thought, shaking his head after the 'Tu' bit. While he did enjoy speaking in French, he did prefer talking in his own language.

He looked outside, seeing soldiers walking round on guard duty. He put the base lard away, grabbing the guard and dragging him out of sight. He looked around, thinking of a way to sneak around.

_Best bet here is to wear this guy's armour_ he thought to himself, looking at the dead soldier. The only thing that would give him away was the LONG sword mark in it…well, it was more a small pierce in the armour, but it was still enough to give him away.

_I wonder if there is any armour in here_ he looked around the room, looking for some French armour of some kind, because he was still under contract to England for this battle, the French soldiers would attack him. After about five minutes of searching, the closest he could find was a full suit of armour made for a knight… way to heavy for him to walk around in effectively.

_I guess I'll have to put up with it for now _he thought, hastily donning the armour over his own. It felt bulky and heavy and…smelled of…sweat and, possibly, worse. He put a helmet on his head, feeling slightly claustrophobic as he did so.

_I better get this over with _He thought to himself, walking out of the place, hoping not to draw much suspicion. He walked through the place, doing rounds like a normal soldier would but avoiding the walls.

Back outside, Magnus, Marc and Georges had spoken to Micael, hearing about his plan. The younger of the brothers strung his bow, getting ready to take a shot at any of the soldiers on guard duty.

"Georges, stay your bow" Marc told him, Georges stooping in his archery attempt.

"Why, Brother? I have a clear shot" the archer enquired.

"Save your ammo, wait till we're within the walls" Magnus answered, looking at the fortress. "Besides, we need to see if this mercenary can do anything when in peril"

Back in the fortress, the idea of walking around as a knight was a good idea… well, apart from when Jorzan had to speak to the soldiers as a knight would, even being called 'Sir Matias' or 'Monsieur', which was quite weird. He walked over to the gate, keeping his swords in there sheaths in his hands.

The two soldiers ran up to him, holding their spears up. He nodded at them, looking at the closed gate.

"Quelle vos commande?" (What are your orders, Sir?) One of the soldiers asked.

"tu deux reste pour le soirée, Je viendra prendre le pouvoir ici" (You two are to rest for the evening, I shall take over here)

The two soldiers saluted the 'knight', running off towards the bunks for sleep. Jorzan made sure they were out of sight, as well as other soldiers, before throwing off the armour. _Thank god I don't have to be in this suit all the time…kinda makes you feel sorry for the knights. _He thought to himself, grabbing his swords again. _Now how do I open you up?_

He looked round the gate, seeing its grand stone design. He looked around seeing a chain head towards a lever on the ground. He walked over to it, grabbing the lever and pulling it to the ground. The gate opened slowly, revealing a horde of soldiers of England.

"There we go, Charge!" one of the English soldiers yelled. All the soldiers that the mercenary had brought with him, along with some spears and even more swords, came charging in, thundering along the ground. Magnus, Marc and Georges ran by, their units behind them.

"Forward, soldiers of England!" Jorzan shouted, raising his swords above him. "Show the soldiers of France English steel!"

In the ensuing melee, many lives were lost on both sides, with Georges, oddly, firing his bow in melee around his brother, Marc making sure that he was Safe. Magnus wet straight for the base commander, cutting him down in an instant. Jorzan got barely any action, even though he had done the hard work of getting the soldiers in.

Five minutes later, the battle was over, the fortress was under English control and the mercenaries' contract was completed. Jorzan looked at Marc, Georges and Marc, seeing them congratulate each other on a job well done, leaving the warrior out. two moons just to get to this moment, annoyed that he wouldn't get much for this.

"Something got you down?" Micael asked the mercenary, walking over to him.

"Yeah" Jorzan replied, looking at his swords.

"If it's any consolation, no one really likes mercenaries these days" the soldier walked in front of the mercenary.

"Not really" Jorzan replied again, putting his swords away, he would have to give the Barkeep his Base lard back.

"Well, I guess I'll be seeing you round"

"What?"

"I have to keep serving here; I can't go any where else unless ordered"

"I guess mercenaries have things that soldiers don't and vice versa"

"See you next time your in Normandy"

The mercenary walked out of the fortress, waving to the soldier as he did so. He thought he had made a friend here, hopefully he would have a chance to meet him again…and not as an enemy.

* * *

2nd update in a week done just after the 'first' chapter. So next chapter it's back to the tavern. I'm going to set up the tavern as a separate chapter for the payment and setting up the next battle.


	4. rewards

Chapter 3

Rewards

The four mercenaries, happy after a job well done, walked into the tavern the day after the victory in Normandy. The place was a lot more crowded then before; some nobles were evident in the crowd, drinking while talking to some other people. Jorzan watched the trio walk to the bar, looking at the Barkeep.

"We have finished our contract for the English" Georges told the Barkeep, sitting down at the bar, the other two flanking him.

"So you faired well, did ye?" the barkeep asked, pouring some drinks into goblets and passing them to the trio.

"Very well indeed, and I dare say we showed the French a thing or two" Magnus commented, grabbing his goblet and drinking the contents.

"It was simple, but I don't think we can get careless" Marc continued, seemingly the wisest out of the three.

"There were four separate sets of wages brought in" the Barkeep told them, looking at Jorzan. "Who of ye owns the fourth?"

"I believe that would be I" Georges lied, smiling as he did so. "I took a load of gold and silver while I was there, giving them to the English in exchange for additional wages"

"Making yourself look honourable, nice idea" the barkeep replied, smiling as he knew the mercenary had lied. "Well lads, get ye to bed, you've got an early days work tomorrow, looking for contracts and all"

"I was going to go walking around, seeing what's going on in the nearby village" Magnus commented, finishing off his drink and grabbing his sword. He stood up, walking out of the tavern, ignoring Jorzan as he passed him.

Georges and Marc walked out of the bar area, heading to the bedrooms upstairs. Both ignoring Jorzan as well. The mercenary sighed, walking up to the bar and taking a seat. He knew the mercenary life was going to be hard, socially, but he didn't know he would be ignored by his comrades. The barkeep seemed to notice the sadness, pouring three drinks. One for the mercenary, one for the merchant and one for himself.

"Tell me, what of the battle?" he asked, leaning on the bar. The mercenary looked at the barkeep, thinking of what to say.

"It was ok I guess" he replied taking a swig from his goblet. "Seems I have the trust of one soldier"

"Good, starting off with few then selling your name to many" the barman smiled, cleaing a goblet and moving around the bar area.

"He's just a captain. A guy called Micael from Yorkshire" thumps were heard upstairs, most likely Marc taking off his armour.

"A captain is still someone to spread word of your deeds"

"Just tell me…is it worth being a mercenary if your so called comrades are ignoring you?" Jorzan looked up, sighing again and taking another swig. The barkeep moved around some tables, cleaning them off. He did chuckle a bit as he had seen this before

"Well, firstly, I suppose it is worth it. If not for you, for everyone you help during your career, and secondly, I know about your wages"

"Thank god someone knows"

"And thirdly, it always starts off tough, you just have to overcome the solemn start for the glorious ending"

"As long as it doesn't involve my death, I'm fine with the ending"

The barkeep laughed a bit more, thinking of all the mercenaries that had passed through these walls and how many of them hadn't returned from a battle where things had gone wrong.

"I don't know any mercenaries who have died in the line of a contract" he lied, smiling. "Besides, you shouldn't worry about your death at 16" he held his hand out, waiting for the sword.

"Well, I hope you don't" Jorzan replied, smiling and passing the blade across. "That's a good sword there"

"It's served its wielder well over many battles" the barkeep smiled, grabbing the blade out of the mercenary's hand and placing it under the bar. "Listen, get some sleep, treat your wounds and wake up refreshed tomorrow, I'm sure a fine supply of contracts will be around"

Jorzan nodded, thinking for a bit before he moved out of his seat. If he went now, then he would be fresh and awake early in the morning. But if he went for a walk, his head would be clear, making his 'hunt' more effective.

"If you don't mind, I'm going for a wander" he told the barkeep, getting up with his sword next to him. "May as well see if I can help nearby"

"Very well, but make sure to be back in one piece" the barkeep replied, taking the used goblet and wiping it. "And your wages will be added to your account, so whatever you buy from my friend here will be taken out of that"

"Fair enough, but for now, see you later"

The mercenary left the tavern, walking round to try and find something to do. He didn't feel like sleeping just yet.


	5. honour

I'm back, sorry about being off so long. I've been working on other stories.

Another filler anyone?

* * *

Chapter 4: Honour

Jorzan walked through the fields, ending up in a nearby village on a moonlit night. The lanterns that normally lit the streets were unlit. That's how bright the moon was. The villagers were all in the centre, talking to each other and relating stories of the war. The youth looked around them seeing Magnus talking to a few lads.

"…all it took was a simple disguise to fool them and the battle was over quickly enough" the mercenary finished, telling the other lads….English soldiers by the look of them, what had happened in the previous battle. "The French, at the moment, can't muster quickly enough to fight back"

"It won't be that, mercenary" one of the soldiers replied. "The French are dogs on a fool's errand to prevent the rightful ruler from taking his reward"

"That might be true on your side, but the French think that they are in the right as well" Magnus replied, smiling. "'Tis true to say that both sides are in the right and both sides are in the wrong, wouldn't ye say?"

"No, we are the rightful owners of the French territories. Aquitaine is a prime example of why" another replied, clinking goblets with another soldier. (if you can clink goblets together that is)

"Let me just ask ye" Magnus started, walking around. "What do ye think started this whole war off?"

"Easily answered, it was our king claiming his rightful place in France and the claim getting rejected by the French" the same soldier answered, getting quite angry n his body language. Jorzan saw they were armed and could hurt Magnus if they wanted to.

"That might be true to your side, but nay, this whole thing was started by the royal families of France and England marrying into one another many years ago…heck, our king is descended from Normans"

The other two soldiers got angrier at this, thinking that it wasn't the reason that had been drilled into their heads when they had been living back home. The third was keeping calm, talking to Magnus. Jorzan knew something was going to happen, looking round for two weapons to use.

"I didn't hear that. I heard they died out years ago and so our king and princes follow a new lineage" the soldier argued, the other two discussing what to do.

"That's just to distance themselves, blood wise, from the French royal family" Magnus explained, seeing the other two rather upset. "But then again, they may just not be telling ye the truth"

"I've heard enough!" one of the angry soldiers shouted, drawing his sword and putting it against Magnus' throat. "You will take back that remark or find ye peace with our lord, God"

"Please gents, I meant no disrespect to ye" Magnus replied, stepping back. "I was just telling you the facts"

"No you weren't. You were trying to tarnish our king's reputation by relating him to the French curs" the soldier replied, his friend joining him, the calm one backing off.

Jorzan, seeing this happening, just so happened to find a pair of spears stuck in the ground. He grabbed them, running back to his ally.

"Face it mercenary, your life or your honour. What is it going to be?" the soldier told Magnus, pushing the sword point onto the mercenary's neck.

"I'll choose both if ye don't mind" Magnus replied, backing up again. "'Tis true we mercenaries aren't exactly loyal, but we do tell the truth"

"Shut up!" the second soldier told him, unsheathing his sword and holding it firm. "I say we kill him now. Who's going to miss a filthy mercenary?"

"Me for one!" Jorzan shouted, running in and slamming his spear into the sword, knocking the soldier back. He kicked at the pair, knocking them further back.

Magnus, overwhelmed by this, was surprised to see Jozan defending him, after what had happened in the previous battle. Jorzan turned round, holding a spear in his off hand out to his ally.

"Come on, let teach these guys a few manners" He spoke, smiling. Magnus nodded, grabbing the spear. Both mercenaries took a defensive stance; spear arched upwards facing the soldiers. The Englishmen both laughed a bit, overconfident, thinking that they could easily outmatch 50 mercenaries, never mind two on two.

They both sidestepped, getting the mercenaries to split up. Jorzan moved through the streets, Magnus going the opposite way. His opponent sneered at him, holding his blade in a defensive stance.

"One of us has to attack the other eventually" the soldier told Jorzan, laughing afterwards.

"True, may as well start things off" Jorzan replied, charging towards his opponent, swinging his spear around to try and hit his opponent on the side.

CHING! The spear hit the sword at a high speed, the soldier standing smiling as Jorzan was surprised. The fighter pushed the spear back, making Jorzan, and himself, spin round. He was aiming another attack. Jorzan got back round just in time to block it, the weapons colliding once more.

"You're good" Jorzan conceded, backing up. "But not good enough". He span round again, hoping to catch the soldier off with a low sweep.

"You're good yourself" the soldier replied, blocking the attack. "For a mercenary. And the best of them is low quality"

"Take that back"

"Make me"

The soldier pushed the spear back, swinging upwards and back down. Jorzan struggling to move the spear back in time to black, feeling the strength behind the blow.

He went onto one knee as part of a plan. He released one hand from his spear, punching the guy as hard as he could in the…gentleman's….area. The soldier breathed deeply, letting his sword go and stepping back, his hands on his area. Jorzan stood up, walking forward with his spear in hand.

"Seems like I have the upper hand" he told the soldier, spinning round with his spear and hitting the guy with the blunt end, knocking him out cold. Jorzan turned round to see Magnus finishing off his opponent with ease, letting him cower on the ground instead of killing him. He walked over to his comrade, putting his spear over his shoulder.

"Remind me to always bring a weapon along when I travel here" Magnus spoke, looking at Jorzan.

"Done" the young mercenary replied, smiling. "What do you say we head back to the tavern and get a good night's sleep?"

"Aye, that would be brilliant so we can get good work on the morrow"

The pair walked out of the village, smiling with their spears over their shoulders. They were both silent until they were out of the farmlands.

"What did you say you're name was again?" Magnus asked, looking at the Mercenary.

"It's Jorzan" was the reply, the mercenary looking at his ally.

"Well, Jorzan, there's something about you" Magnus told him, looking up at the sky. "I can see something in your eye"

"What, is it an eyelash or something?"

"I don't know, it's just that little glint of something, some kind of hint towards something, but I don't know what"

"Well, that's helpful, remind me to ask you to check my eyes out next time I need an archery test done"

They both laughed at this, exchanging stories and experience about previous battles and such all the way back to the tavern.

* * *

Remind me to get a 'bladestorm' map on this computer, so I can just look at it instead of loading up the game for 5 minutes just to check out a few names. And to learn 'more' Middle English.

I need personal opinions now, in an unofficial poll by review or PM, if I left out the town/city/castle/base/whatever names, apart from the major ones like Orleans, Paris, Rouen and so on, would you be annoyed?


	6. the black legend

Nothing like trying to work on a neglected fic. Sorry for not working on this, but I've got stories that have been running for a while that need finishing in my opinion. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes.

This is going to be a short chapter, so sorry.

Chapter 6:

The black legend.

As the mercenaries arrived in English Normandy, they looked around the area, seeing soldiers running around. Jorzan scratched his arm, looking around them.

"So what exactly are they doing?" He asked the trio behind him. Magnus looked at the youth, quite bemusedly.

"If you remember, Prince Edward is one the way to this battle" he told the mercenary. Jorzan looked at his friend, his face going red.

"I…err, didn't forget…I just, err, haven't been in a city when a royal is on the way" he replied, looking around for something to change the subject with.

"Actually, while I think about it" Marc started. Jorzan looked at the mercenary. "Where are you from?"

"Oh, that's simple, I'm from the city of Arc, but my family moved just before the start of this blood feud"

"Was it any good?" Georges asked. Jorzan smiled.

"It was one of the most beautiful places you could imagine" he looked at the sky, smiling. "Every sunset, the light from the sun would make the white roses look majestic and would give everyone hope for the future" he smiled as he looked at a star. "I remember one evening that my Mother brought home some seeds from the fields and let me help her plant them" he looked back at the ground, stopping smiling. "Only problem was I didn't like that life, I wanted to leave the normal farming life"

"I understand why" Magnus told him, walking up to him. "I used to live in Ireland, and it wasn't exactly my kind of life"

"Must have been entertaining" Georges commented. "Wouldn't it be better to talk when we get back to the tavern?

"Good point" Jorzan told him, looking at him. "I'm just wondering where this 'Edward' is meant to be"

"You! Mercenaries!" someone shouted. The group looking over towards the origin.

They saw an old man with grey hair and beard, along with a lance in his hand and green armour. He was on a horse wearing black chain barding. The rider looked at them quite angrily. "You are meant to be moving out north with Edward!"

"Oh…sorry" Jorzan told him, running towards the north gate.

"Are ye John Chandos?" Magnus asked him, looking at him.

"What is it to you, Mercenary?" he replied, looking annoyed. "Just get moving. Prince Edward needs help Right now!"

"Fair enough"

The trio followed Jorzan, all of them surprised at the outburst by Chandos. The general shook his head, looking at the ground.

"To think we had to stoop to hiring sell swords" he aid to himself, putting his hand on his head. "What is the prince thinking?"

"Ok, my lancers will move with the mercenaries to take the city of Carentan" a black haired general told the other officers. "We shall show them the strength of England"

"Yes, Prince Edward" one of the officers told him, walking away. The mercenaries were nearby, looking at the prince's armour.

"Nice" Jorzan commented. The prince heard this, looking over to the group.

"Ah, you would be the mercenaries that we asked for, would you not?" he asked them, the group nodding. He walked over to them. "I am Edward, Crown prince of England, Current leader of English troops in Normandy"

"Well, I'm Jorzan" the youth told him, smiling. "This is Magnus, Georges and Marc, fellow mercenaries. We're here for the job"

"Well, I ask you to aid our troops taking the city of Carentan"

"As long as we get paid, I'm fine with it" Marc told him, smiling.

"Agreed" Georges told him, looking at his brother.

"Give us the troops, and we shall bring ye the victory, and ye shall have to pay us" Magnus told him, smiling.

"Good, then let's get moving" Edward told them, running to his horse.

"Come on, another battle waits and more glory and money for us" Jorzan told them, running off.

"Ok, he is enthusiastic" Marc commented, looking around.

"He is good, but there's something about him that is a bit…off" Georges told them, looking between the two.

"What do you mean?"

"His story…why would he leave Arc? that's a good place to live"

"I know what ye mean, but he be a mercenary. What ever has happened in the past we have to leave it to him"

The mercenaries moved out, moving alongside Edward's army.


End file.
